


It's awkward on occasion

by hypatheticallyspeaking



Series: Watching the Parisian Skies [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I had to stop before it got super cheesy, Older AU, Unbeta'd, like plagg-level cheesy, lots of fluff, roommates au, they're so oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatheticallyspeaking/pseuds/hypatheticallyspeaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At least she's not a stuttering mess...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's awkward on occasion

Marinette rarely regrets agreeing to be Adrien’s roommate. At least she’s still not a stuttering mess in front of him anymore. They’ve managed to attain a simple system of living that just _works_. She’s not sneaking around, and he understands that she’s busy all the time.

Mostly it’s Marinette being thankful that Adrien doesn’t inquire about why she vanishes for hours on end when she’s off chasing akuma as Ladybug. Then again, she doesn’t insist on knowing every single nuance in his schedule. It’s so much better that way, she’s decided, and as much as she loathes having to keep a secret from him… She sighs. She shouldn’t think like that—why change what already fits flawlessly?

It’s late at night, nearly one in the morning, when she hears the apartment’s shower start. The sound startles her from her multi-hour designing session. Colored pencils clatter to the floor and she picks them up and returns them to their place on her artist’s easel. Her bedroom-slash-studio is a disaster, but she’s not in the mood to clean up the other rolls of fabric and scraps that have fallen onto the floor around her chair. She’s still in the crimson blazer and high heels she wore to work, despite the fact that it’s been so long since she left the building.

Marinette kicks off her shoes and rummages in her dresser for something more comfortable to sleep in. Even though she doesn’t have work for a couple of days—being able to design her own schedule is wonderful—she should get some sleep soon, right? She settles on a black and green Chat Noir-based pajama set that she designed _years_ ago. Adrien seems to believe that she’s a Chat Noir fangirl, constantly stating something about Chat fitting in her life as a “problematic fave.” She can’t argue with that statement, even though her choice of pajamas will more-than-likely result in relentless teasing.

She moves from her room to their shared living area and takes a seat on the couch. The blanket Adrien had been using for their movie night the day before is still on the couch, a wrinkled mess, but she picks it up and wraps it around her shoulders. She’s not about to turn on the television—she knows full well that she would turn it off in a matter of seconds due to boredom. Instead she stretches out on the couch, leaning her back against one of the armrests.

The sound of running water stops, and she tilts her head back over the armrest until the entire world is upside down. Her hair is pulled up into pigtails reminiscent of her teenage years, and the tips of her indigo locks nearly touch the ground. Adrien emerges from the bathroom, a damp towel slung around his shoulders and droplets of water trailing down his back.

“You done?” she asks, her voice a croak that’s hopefully a result of her exhaustion and not embarrassment.

“Yeah. Pay no attention to the guy in his boxers,” Adrien says with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Marinette’s extremely thankful that her face is already flushed from being upside down, rather than because of the appearance of her long-time crush.

“At least you’re not just wearing a towel,” Marinette comments drily, before pulling herself up to sitting. He opens his mouth to say something, and she quickly adds to her statement, “Don’t you _dare_ say anything.”

“Okay, _fine_.” There’s a small smirk that quirks at the corner of his lips. It feels like she’s seen it a million times before, but she can never place it; but regardless, it feels… right. Adrien’s eyes flick down to her pajama set, and the smirk grows more. “By the way…”

“DON’T YOU DA-” Marinette screeches, tugging the blanket around her entire body and flopping face-first onto the couch.

“Nice pajamas.” There’s a snicker in his voice, and he ducks into his room before he can elaborate any further on his comment.

Marinette lifts the blanket from over her head, blue eyes peering out from underneath. “That’s mean,” she grumbles, staring at the closed wooden door. She ducks her head underneath the blanket again, inhaling the scent that is _home_. Her eyelids grow heavy, not that they weren’t before, and she closes them. Her breathing grows slower, and her limbs feel like leaden weights.

From inside her blanketed cocoon, she feels the couch cushions sink as her roommate curls up by her feet and turns on the television. It’s just reruns of old television shows, and she can feel his silent laughter against her body. It’s comforting, really. Marinette pulls herself up to sitting, uncurling the oversized blanket from around herself. She drapes it across her body and over Adrien as well.

“At least you’re wearing pajamas.” She pauses, glancing at his black and red polka-dotted pajama pants that are eerily reminiscent of her superhero spandex suit. “Nice.”

“That’s mean,” he echoes, his voice teasing and light; the sound mirrors the humor in his emerald eyes. “I guess I earned that though.”

The television flashes, bright lights and goofy cartoon characters. Marinette can’t help a nostalgic smile, and she leans against Adrien’s shoulder. His body’s warm, practically radiating heat, and he shifts so that her head isn’t rested against the bones in his shoulder.

“Why were you up this late?” she wonders aloud, stifling a yawn. The only other person she knows who would willingly be up past one in the morning is Chat Noir, but she can’t even compare the two. Besides, she’s already pushed the thought of Adrien _possibly_ being Chat out of her head years ago.

“I got caught up at the library. I didn’t even realize it was midnight until the lights started shutting off.” He rubs the back of his head, smiling sheepishly.

“You’re such a nerd,” Marinette murmurs, even though her voice is slurred by her drowsiness.

“You love me for it,” he replies, fixing the blanket and lowering his arm around her torso. “You do know you have a bed, right?”

“Too many pins.” She really needs to stop transforming her sleeping area into a designing zone, but old habits die hard.

The last thing she remembers before falling asleep is Adrien’s laughter and the constant rhythm of his heartbeat.

Really, she can bear a little bit of embarrassment.


End file.
